Do Not Tickle The Sleeping Dragon
by RisingFire
Summary: Something has awoken in Hogwarts: something dark, something dangerous... and the Twins aren't really helping matters. It's up to them to save the castle from a dragon that doesn't like getting up- but then again, they aren't exactly typical First Years... Rated for swearing.
1. Prologue

DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON

* * *

><p>PROLOGUE<p>

* * *

><p>There is a myth…<p>

It concerns people, and places, and darkness, and most importantly, _magic._

The magic that escapes from wizards beings, and jumps from the shoulders of witches, and scurries through the nearest hole or crack, and joins together, until there is enough of it…

And then the magic that is lurking in the depths of a castle, curling, twisting, stewing in its own energy becomes more. It is no longer just magic, now it has form, texture, being.

It is dangerous.

Sometimes, it isn't just a myth anymore.

Hogwarts had stood for several centuries. Most of its history was unknown; not even to be found in Hogwarts: A History, as if it had just sprung up from no-where, and perhaps it had.

In its second century a wizard named Eldritch Gryffindor found it and decided he quite liked it, and his descendants lived in it for a while longer.

Halfway through this century, in the lifetime of Godric Gryffindor, a young pair of travelling witches came across it in their adventures and were welcomed in. Rowena, and her daughter Helena, Ravenclaw had come to the castle.

By now the castle had become famed for its magical inhabitants, and soon enough two more people of great stead: Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff, who had come across the castle in their own stories.

Godric, Rowena, Salazar and Helga became, as you no doubt know, the founders of a school: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (meanwhile, leaving their children, and the many other inhabitants of the castle to their own devices- but that is beside the point). Before long they had organised the school into four houses, and the young children that they taught had established a rivalry between each other.

In due time the founders left the castle, died or just retired, leaving the school to the running of its Headmasters and Headmistresses, and its assembled staff.

And all the while the magic was building up- in the emptiest of classrooms, in the quietest of corridors, in the deepest of dungeons…

It was nearing the end of summer. Soon old pupils would be returning to the school, and new pupils would be filing nervously into the Great Hall to be sorted.

Headmaster Dumbledore sat in his office, wondering what this year would have in store for he and his students.

Professor McGonagall wandered around the grounds in cat form, paws padding softly in the slightly-yellowed grass and tiny whiskers twitching in the breeze.

Professor Sprout pulled open the portrait to the kitchens, greeting the resting House-Elves with a smile and a request for a sandwich.

Professor Flitwick flicked his wand across the lengths of his classroom, filling inkwells and pushing books back onto shelves.

Professor Snape lurked in his dungeons, robes billowing as he stirred the many brewing potions surrounding him.

Hagrid, the groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys, trudged through the forest with his boarhound at his knees (a testimony to his height, you understand), pruning bushes and cracking twigs.

In an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor, a floorboard creaked. Below the floorboard was darkness.

Seven pure, uninterrupted storeys of solid darkness.

Foreboding ran up Professor Snape's spine, and he paused, peering into the shadows of his classroom.

Something was wrong.

And then his Brilliance Brew almost bubbled over, and he pushed the thought from his mind in order to return to his waiting potions.

Deep in the darkness, something blinked.


	2. Chapter 1

DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON

CHAPTER ONE

ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time, just outside of a little village somewhere in a low-lying part of England called Ottery-St-Catchpole, there was a crooked, crooked house at the end of a tiny, dusty little lane.

This house was round, and square, and long, and short, all at the same time. It was held up by glue and duct tape and magic, but mostly duct tape. Every few days something broke or banged or exploded and someone stormed off in a huff, but by the next day it was fixed and everyone was back at the breakfast table.

Our story begins with a shriek and an owl falling into a bowl of cereal. That would be the first clue of it being not quite a normal household. How many people do you know that have their letters delivered by owl?

"Merlin, Errol, can't you land in someone else's cereal for once?" the second youngest Weasley muttered, fishing the sodden, down-trodden owl from his breakfast with a sigh, while his sister pulled a slightly soggy letter out of her strawberry-jam-on-toast.

"Mum, it's one of yours."

"Oh, that'll be from Marge. Thanks, Gin. Percy, can you go and find the twins? I called them down ten minutes ago."

Percy Weasley, pushing his plate to the side, pulled out his wand (the second clue to the extra-ordinary nature of the people living in the crooked, crooked house) and held it in front of him warily before leaving the room to collect two of his several brothers from wherever they were.

The wand was a safety precaution.

It was Fred and George. They could be doing anything.

They were indeed doing 'anything'.

"Ready, Fred?"

"Ready, George."

Their plan was simple: do anything possible to humiliate their stuffy older brother, Percy, while simultaneously getting back into their vicious younger sister, Ginny's, good books, and not being caught by either of their parents.

Besides, they did this all the time. They had gotten pretty good at it, you understand.

Footsteps were heard on the stairs. They positioned themselves at their action stations.

On the left side of the door, Fred silently counted down from three on his fingers, holding them up for George to see.

The door opened, the two boys pulled on a string and Percy tripped- in classic cartoon form –managed, due to a perfectly placed and elaborately caused acrobatics charm (there was an advantage to having several older brothers willing to perform spells for you without asking questions), to somersault directly into an conveniently placed puddle of pink glitter-

"Protego!"

A blue shield sprung up from his wand, and he bounced off it and upright again, smiling smugly.

"Percy!" The twins chorused in disappointment.

"That's cheating!" George exclaimed, as Percy moved backwards, avoiding the glitter (glitter being a deadly substance: one that will stick to everything in its vicinity and not come of no matter how many showers you take in order to try to get rid of the stuff).

"I'm cheating? I'm taking any advantage I can get before you too are able to cast spells! Mum wants you to get down to breakfast, or there won't be any left, between Ron's rate of consumption and Charlie's toast feast."

"Toast feast?"

"That's our job!" Fred complained, chucking a paper aeroplane he'd found on the floor handily at his head, before the two of them ran to the top of the stairs in order to race down them.

Percy shook his head and continued upwards towards his own room.

Tumbling down the stairs, panting, were two redheaded twins. At the bottom of the stairs was another redhead- a girl, this time.

The three collided.

"Fred. George," whispered the small girl, "if you don't get off me right now I'll eat most of the skin from whoever's arms this is!"

George yelped. It was his arm. "Get off, get off, get off! I want to keep this arm!"

"Boys! What've I told you about running down the stairs? I'm sure I've said something-" Mrs Weasley pulled the children up.

"Yes, you have," Fred began,

"I believe it was to do-" George went on,

"-with being disruptive-"

"-Dangerous-"

"-And annoying!"

From the other side of the room Charlie Weasley clapped slowly. "It's amazing how you can remember the lecture word for word, and yet still want to annoy her into giving you the same lecture. For the seventieth time."

"Well, Charlie, that's why we know it so well," George stated proudly.

"We've been in this family for eleven years." Fred nodded, grinning.

"We've had time to memorise it."

"Never, ever do that again!" The Weasley's mother shook with rage. One twin rolled his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me! You could have seriously injured somebody!"

"What, Ginny? She'd hurt us more than we could hurt her!"

"That reminds me- Ginny, I need to talk to you about your violence." Ginny groaned and threw a piece of toast at one of the twins.

"This is your own faults," she said, before escaping the room and leaving the twins to face their dooms at the hands of their mother.

"That was an incredibly irresponsible and disruptive thing to do!"

"Oh, a new adjective," George muttered, damning his sister to hell.

"Fred! George! If you aren't down here within the next seven seconds we're leaving without you and you'll have to wear Charlie's old robes to school!"

"What?" a voice echoed from the stairs.

"But Charlie's five years older than us!" another voice said.

"And fat!" the first voice shouted back down again.

"I am not fat!" Charlie protested, before stepping into the roaring, green flames and disappearing with a cry of 'Diagon Alley'. Floo powder was quicker than apparating, and mildly less painful. Although only mildly.

With two identical cries of pain the boys arrived by the fireplace- tripping over the carpet- and lined up behind Percy.

"Where's Ginny? Isn't she coming?" George asked, turning to check down the back of an armchair.

"She's not down there, idiot," Percy said, hitting him over the back of the head with a cupped palm. "She's at the Lovegood's," he answered before turning to get into the fire.

"The Lovegoods?" Fred asked, "Are they the mental ones who believe there's such things as radish-eating blackbirds or something?"

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley chastised, "They aren't mental, just… different."

"You mean, mental…"

"Just get into the fire, Fred," his father said tiredly, pushing him forward behind Percy, who had just been rushed away in a roar of emerald flame.

"Fine, but-" He closed his mouth at his mothers look, and prepared himself for the feeling of searing heat, ash and soot…

As he got into the fire he could hear his mother screaming at George about an armchair.

Fred arrived in the Leaky Cauldron, at the feet of two of his older brothers. Charlie helped him up before Ron's feet kicked the dust where he had almost been.

"Where's George?" Percy asked, pulling Ron up.

"He pulled out all the cushions on the armchair looking for Ginny," Ron replied, grinning. "Mum's yelling at him."

A few moments later George popped out of the Floo, followed by the two Weasley parents in quick succession.

"Right," Mr Weasley announced, "Percy, Charlie, here are the booklists, I expect you to buy those and then meet us in Ollivanders. Arthur, if you want to visit the vault first-"

"Why can't we go with them?" Fred asked as Mr Weasley gave the boys a few galleons.

"Because the last time we left you with money you tried to buy a viper from a man you'd never met before who was, apparently, 'selling them cheap'."

"That was one time!" George protested.

"Yes, and it'll be more than that if we ever trust you again. Get a move on."

Trying on robes for school was boring. The highlight was burying Ron under a set of ladies dress robes and watching him attempt to escape the miles of lace hiding his freckled face.

"What are you doing, Ron? Get up," Mrs Weasley pulled her youngest son from the mess of frills with one hand, as she directed the others outside with a wave of her arm, "we have other places to go, we can't be messing around hiding under robes all day."

"Yeah, Ron," the twins chorused, snickering. Ron glared at them.

It took a while to get up the street to Ollivanders, mostly because the twins kept stopping to stare into window displays. After spending five minutes trying to drag all three boys away from a shop window displaying the latest Cleansweep and another five minutes trying to drag them away from Florian Fortescue's, they found the shop they were looking for. A shabby, crumbling old shop with a small sign above it painted in gold lettering: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC _was not quite what the boys had expected.

"Not very impressive, is it?" Fred commented.

"Well, when you have hundreds of galleons you can travel to Bulgaria for one of Gregorovitch's wands. Until then, this'll do. Or would you rather have Bill's old wand?" Mrs Weasley reprimanded him.

"But I thought there'd be sparks flying out of it, or dragons or something…" George said, ignoring his mother.

"Maybe a goblin. Or a troll! I've never seen a troll before!" Ron piped up as the boys were pulled into the shop, still muttering. A bell tinkled over their heads as the door swung open.

"I'm sure you'll see a troll soon enough, Ron, but we have other things to do first, such as buy your brothers wands. I think we'll have to check his second-hand stock; they're cheaper…"

"Ah, Mrs Weasley. I've been expecting you," spoke a voice from the back of the shop. An identical spark of curiosity appeared in the eyes of the twins, while Ron jumped, startled by the head that appeared from behind a stack of boxes.

"Yes, Mr Ollivander, the twins are off to Hogwarts this year. Fred and George," she indicated the twins.

"Come with me," the pale man ordered, beckoning with one long, wrinkled finger. Giving each other a sceptical look, Fred and George followed the man through the aisles of boxes into a smaller room filled with many more carefully ordered small, rectangular boxes.

"Do you think he's…?" Fred began, under his breath.

"Mad? Yes. Definitely," George whispered back.

Without warning, Ollivander turned to face them, in his hand two identical boxes.

"Try this, Mr Weasley," he intoned throatily, passing one to Fred. "Dogwood and dragon heartstring. Ten inches, brittle. Used to belong to one of the Bones sisters."

Fred waved the wand confidently, and with a 'BANG!' and a loose spark, incited the wand-makers eyebrows to fall off into his waiting hand.

"Yes, it does that sometimes. It's a fault in the wood. Pass that to Mr Weasley, and try this one. Apple and unicorn hair, twelve inches, very solid. Found it in a MacDonald house clearance last month."

The twins waved the two wands in unison, and two jets of light hit each other, causing a minor explosion.

"Ah. Perhaps something a little whippier? Yes. Try this. Beech and phoenix feather, nine inches, springy."

Suffice to say, the crooked wand demolished two shelves with an innocent sound of birdsong.

"Ooops," Fred said apologetically.

Most of the wand-testing process continued in this way, with Mr Ollivander losing more and more hair until finally he presented Fred with…

"Cedar. And dragon heartstring," the old man muttered resignedly, "Twelve and a half inches, supple."

Something was different this time. It could have been that no hair fell from anybodies heads, or that no fireworks appeared to destroy the room. But mostly, it was probably the miniature bouquet of flowers that sprouted from one end.

George burst out laughing, and applauded his brother. "Your wand- your- ahaha- your wand- ha ha- it sprouts flowers!"

"Shut up, George."

Ollivander coughed. "Yes; they are second-hand… some of them have small kinks or quirks like that…"

George was still waiting. Fred hit him. "Fine, then! Just wait until you find yours… it'll probably be pink or something…"

"Mr Weasley?" George nodded, managing to stop giggling in order to listen to him. "I think this could do it: Fir and unicorn hair, eleven inches, pliant." He passed the wand to George.

Flicking his wrist, he aimed the wand at Ollivanders eyebrows. With a tinkle of clean-cut bells they flew back onto his head in perfect position above his blue eyes.

"Perfect! Ignore the sound, please, it's just a quirk."

"Don't- don't- FRED, STOP LAUGHING!"

"AHA! IT TINKLES! YOUR WAND TINKLES!"

"SHUT IT! Yours makes flowers!"

"Boys, it matters not what noise your wand makes- nor what it produces- but rather, how well-matched it is… after all, the wand chooses the wizard… Mr Weasley? Mr Weasley?"

The boys were too busy laughing at each other to listen to the crusty man, as he pulled them back through the doorway into the main room.

Charlie, Percy and Ron looked up from where they were playing a game of Exploding Snap. There was a scorch mark on the table, and Mrs Weasley was eyeing them disapprovingly.

Charlie grinned. "So, found your wands?"

"His tinkles." "His spells actual flowers." The boys said as the same time.

"Six galleons, Mr Weasley," Ollivander said tiredly, holding out a hand.

"For both? That seems cheap-"

"They have certain… faults. Minor faults, but faults none the less."

"His tinkles!" "His spells actual flowers!" The boys cried.

"I see," Mr Weasley smiled, and handed over five gold galleons and a number of silver coins.

"Thank you." Mr Ollivander ushered the seven Weasleys out of his shop with a sigh of relief.

_Good Lord,_ he thought, _I'm going to suffer that twice more before I've had the full set…_

The seven Weasley's had lunch in the Leaky Cauldron. Between the food fight that Charlie and Ron and Fred and George waged against each other, Molly Weasley said to her husband, "I'm sure it wasn't quite so stressful when it was just Bill, Charlie and Percy."

"I know it wasn't. The twins… why did we have the twins, again? Do you have a clue either?"

"Not really. It just went downhill from there, didn't it? Boys! Clean up your food, we need to pick Ginny up on the way home…"

"Ron! You told Luna there was no such thing as wrackspurts!" Ginny shouted as soon as she stepped out of the Floo.

"There isn't!"

"But she doesn't know that! You made her cry!"

"Well," Mrs Weasley sighed, dropping several sets of robes over the edge of a chair, "We won't be allowed back there again."

"I think Fred and George may have traumatised her…" Mr Weasley ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "I really don't know if Hogwarts is going to be able to cope with the twins yet."

"Then again, will anywhere ever be ready for the twins?"

"Fair point."

Meanwhile, the twins where using their new wands for a spark-shooting competition, and were both trying to ignore the discomforting effects the wands were having…

"I don't think that it really counts if the sparks are pink and glittery-" George smirked.

Fred interrupted him to comment, "Yours were hardly the most macho of things, were they? They _were _shaped a little bit like love-"

"They were not!"

"They so were!"

"They weren't! How can you mistake-"

"You know they were, George, just admit it…"

The two boys glared at each other for a moment. Then they burst out laughing, shot a few sparks at each other, and ended up setting off several paint bombs hidden under one of their beds. Accidentally, of course.

Lying on the floor, covered in red and yellow paint, they wondered whether perhaps Hogwarts would react well to their arrival.

By now I hope you have realised that these two boys and their household were not exactly average. After all, they used wooden wands, lived in a house made up of mainly magic, were delivered letters by owl and could travel in fire.

The truth is, they were not normal.

They weren't normal people- they could shoot sparks and they lived in a world where things like unicorns, phoenixes and dragons weren't just myths: they were real, they existed. They were almost common place.

In fact, Fred and George Weasley were wizards.


	3. Chapter 2

DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON

CHAPTER TWO

CHRASHING INTO PEOPLE IS THE BEST WAY OF MEETING THEM, AND POURING SOUP OVER THEM IS THE BEST WAY OF MAKING FRIENDS WITH THEM

(OR: STATIONS AND SOUP)

"Charlie, have you seen Percy around here? He's forgotten his rat again... Poor Scabbers, you'd think he's doing it on purpose," Mrs Weasley asked, standing on her toes to see over the crowds of children.

"Yeah, you'd think," George muttered from beside her. "Hey, Fred, reckon we could get into the drivers carriage without anyone noticing?"

"What do you mean, without anyone noticing?" His mother turned around sharply.

"No," Fred replied, "I don't think we could manage that."

"Percy! Percy! There you are! You've forgotten your rat!" shouted Mrs Weasley, pushing through a line of dark-robed, stiff-looking children.

"On the other hand..." Charlie grinned. "Come on then, twins, before she notices we aren't here anymore."

The three ginger boys ran along the platform, trying not to hit people with their trolleys (or, in Fred and George's cases, competing over who could knock the most people over) and apologizing over their shoulders to those they did (or, in Fred and George's cases... not).

"Charlie!" A voice called out over the many, many disgruntled heads.

"Joe! Right, this is where I leave you guys. Get your stuff on the train, stop knocking people over and please don't blow anything up, right?"

"Can't promise anything, Charlie, but we'll try!" Fred waved cheerfully, and disappeared into the masses packed onto Platform 9 and ¾, followed by his brother. A few steps away from Charlie, George turned to him. "Race you to the luggage compartment?" Without even bothering to reply, Fred set off across the platform, sending people careening out of his way-

CRASH!

Fred and his partner in collision were now a groaning, pained pile of trolleys and luggage and a cat's cage. The black kitten in the cage began to yowl, as a wide circle opened up around the pile.

"Owwww…" Fred moaned, twitching a leg slightly and knocking over a suitcase.

"I think my all of my toes are broken," the other dark-skinned boy muttered, attempting to sit up without squashing his cat or getting his lengthy dreadlocks stuck in a trolley wheel.

"Oops," George said guiltily, rushing over to pull the two apart and away from the accident site.

By now the gathering crowd had grown to include a very red-faced Percy Weasley. "Tell me, please," he asked, shooting his patented glares of death at most of the people in the vicinity (but mostly Fred and George), "What is it like living in a permanent state of idiocy?"

"Painful," Fred, replied, and the other boy grinned a little.

"Embarrassing," George added, nodding heartily.

"The most fun you'll ever have," they said in unison, turning to high-five each other with a pair of identical beams.

"Get out of here, before Mum gets hold of you and manages to wring your scrawny little necks!"

The boys did as he commanded them, bursting into laughter as they neared the train.

"So," Fred asked eventually, "Who are you?"

The boy answered, "Lee Jordan. And you two would be?"

"Call me Fred," George said, shaking his left hand;

"Call me George," Fred said, shaking his right.

"How do I tell the difference between you two?"

"You don't," they chorused, blinking their brown eyes identically.

"We don't think it's actually possible," George said.

"Although," Fred added, "If you'd care to look, George has a scar that I don't have. But it's on his left bum cheek."

"No," Lee said vehemently, "I definitely would not care to look. How on earth did it get there?"

"I ran into a thorn bush naked-" George began, but was interrupted by his brother.

"George, get on the train! I can see Mum! And Percy! And they're talking! GET ON THE TRAIN!"

Lee Jordan watched bemusedly as the two boys leapt on to the train, following them with the same confused look on his face as they made their way down the carriage ducking beneath windows and rolling past doors.

"Are you quite done?" He asked pointedly when they came to a stop outside an empty compartment.

"Yes," George agreed solemnly, before throwing a shoe at the handle of the compartment to open it and rolling in. His brother turned onto his back to give Lee a thumbs-up before following his brother, creeping across the floor in crab position instead.

Lee clapped slowly, walking into the compartment after them.

He had a feeling this was going to be a rather extraordinary year.

He was right.

"So first there's Bill, who works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker. Then you have Charlie, who's in Third Year-" Lee said, counting on his fingers.

"No, Charlie's in Sixth. Percy's in Third Year," George corrected.

"Okay," Lee continued, "so Charlie's in Sixth Year, and then Percy, who's in Third Year. There's you two next, and then Ginny, who-"

"You've missed out Ron. He'll be at Hogwarts in two years. Then there's Ginny, the year after," George nodded. "An admirable job, though. It took us about seven years to learn the order."

"That… that is a lot of brothers and sisters."

"It is. We have so many stories from back home. Remember that time we turned Ron's bear into a spider?"

"Classic," Fred smiled, "He's now terrified of spiders. And, incidentally, us, a lot of the time too."

"We can't wait until he's at Hogwarts."

"So many opportunities for mocking him…"

"So many tricks to play on him…"

"So much stuff to steal from him that we don't actually need…" Fred finished. "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

A few rounds later, the door slid open, revealing a boy and girl in black robes.

"Can we help you?" Lee asked politely, looking up from the game of exploding snap. Within three seconds, the cards exploded directly in his face.

A few moments later, Lee, minus his eyebrows, turned back to the people at the door. "Sorry about that. As you were saying?"

"We weren't saying anything," the girl said.

"Well, why not?"

"Because a box of cards exploded in your face," George pointed out.

"Oh, yeah. What did you need?" Lee asked again.

"You're making enough noise that the rest of the carriage can hear you," the girl complained.

"Seriously?" Fred asked, leaning forward, and gave a whoop. "All right! Achievement right there!"

"We aren't congratulating you," the boy rolled his eyes, leaning into the room and trying to get them to shut up. "We want you to be quieter."

Lee took over, as the twins looked about to make even more noise. "Sure, we'll be quiet. Hey, we will! Fred! Don't just laugh at me!"

"Haha- quiet! Be quiet- aha, don't make me laugh! I'm pissing myself!"

"Okay, so we can't exactly promise anything-"

The girl sneered, and pulled on the boys shoulders. "Come on, Montague, I can see we won't be getting very far here. Perhaps we can find a different compartment." They left.

"Are you always like this?" Lee turned away from the door as it slid closed again.

"Yes, mostly," George said confidently.

"Hey," Fred stood up. "I think the girl dropped something." He bent over to pick up a piece of paper from the floor. "In fact…" He dropped the paper onto the table in front of the other two. "It's a bookmark, isn't it?"

"What's a bookmark?" George asked, as his brother inspected the paper. Lee gave him a look, unsure if George was joking or not.

It was indeed a bookmark: showing a dark shape and a paragraph of imposing text.

"'_The Ddraig is occasionally mistaken for a Dementor or Lethifold due to its dark figure and ambiguous shape; however, the Ddraig is more closely related to the Dragon. It is in fact none of these, but rather a creature made up of pure, unadulterated magic. Very little is known about it, other than its incredible lethality,' _" George read aloud, "Check it out, the thing moves!"

The other boys peered at the card in silence.

"George," Fred murmured slowly, "Are you sure that that's actually moving? It doesn't really…" He trailed off.

"That's kind of creepy…" Lee whispered.

"Let's agree to never speak of this again," George suggested, shoving the bookmark into his back pocket.

The others nodded fervently.

This was the first sign of something possibly being wrong this year. Most of the time Fred and George didn't bother making promises. After all, it's not like they were likely to keep them, is it?

The rest of the train ride passed quickly, in a whirlwind of wizarding sweets, noisy magic games and over-exaggerated stories of childhood memories. By the time the train pulled in at Hogsmeade Station the compartment was littered with wrappers and the boys had begun to wonder how they would be 'Sorted'.

"I reckon they'll make us fight some kind of monster- maybe a goblin, or a hippogriff. Maybe even a troll!" Fred suggested, eyes bright with excitement.

"Don't be an idiot," George dismissed, "obviously they won't make us fight anything… we might have to perform magic, though, I guess…"

"Nah," Lee added to the discussion, "We'll probably just be sorted at random, or alphabetically."

The twins turned to look at him, disbelief written across their faces. "Lee," said George scathingly, "Don't you know anything? Obviously we'll be put in mortal peril to sort out where we'll be sleeping for the next seven years…"

"Yeah," Fred agreed, "I mean, who'd sort us _by name_? It's just so boring…"

"Probably dangerous too," George muttered as the boys made their way through the crowd to a voice shouting for 'Firs' Years', "All us Weasleys'd end up together."

"Now that's an accident waiting to happen," Lee conceded, "You'd probably set fire to the beds or something…."

"Done that," Fred checked off, "Mum went mental, said we were- WOAH! HOLY HELL! I WANT TO BE THAT TALL WHEN I'M OLDER!"

The reason for Fred's outburst was the man calling for First Years, who appeared to be about twice the size of the twins. "'Two more Weasleys, ah see… make yer way teh the boats, please," the giant man spoke, waving a hand the size of a dinner plate in the direction of a fleet of rowing boats.

A few minutes later the three boys were packed into a boat along with two girls- who they later learned to be named Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson- and were looking about for oars-

One of the girls screamed in surprise and grabbed onto Lee as the boat began to move of its own volition. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, letting go off him, "It startled me."

"I reckon it startled Fred more," Lee commented, grinning. Fred let go off his brother in order to lean over and hit Lee.

"Hey, check it out," George exclaimed, peering over the edge of the boats side at a shadow in the water, "there's something in the lake-"

There were shrieks from many of the other boats as a tentacle erupted from the water, splashing water over George, who was still leaning over the side of the boat. He leant back, shook his head, shaking water over the rest of the boats occupants, and then leant over the side again. "Hah! It's an octopus!"

"A squid," the giant corrected from the boat at the front.

"Whatever," George muttered, reaching out to pat the tentacle. "It's so squidgy," he announced reverently.

"George," said Lee slowly, "you're patting a squid's tentacle."

"I _know_," George said reverently.

"A boy after me own 'eart!" the giant boomed happily, "Did yer know, Weasley, that the layer of slime yer can feel there is 'ow the squid- er- relieves himself?"

George withdrew his hand sharply, glaring at his now-giggling brother. The giant continued chattering on about squid pores until they reached the castle. There, he gave a great knock on the oak door, leaving several pupils wondering how the door was still standing.

After a moment, a woman dressed all in black opened the door, giving the new pupils a stare which made most of them wish they were back in the lake with the giant squid.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, with a light Scottish accent, "You can head on up to the feast now. Enter, students."

She stepped back from the door and the group filed in silently, barely filling the large hall they now stood in. Introducing herself as Professor McGonagall, she began to talk. "You will now be sorted into one of four houses," she explained, "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin…"

"Blah, blah, blah," George whispered from the back of the group, "When's it all gonna happen? I want to slaughter my troll already…"

Angelina turned around to look at him oddly, "We aren't going to fight a troll, George…"

"What do you mean, 'we aren't going to fight a troll'? But that's the best part!" Fred exclaimed loudly, interrupting the Professor. He noticed that the Professor had gone quiet, and said, "Oh, sorry, Professor. Carry on."

"Thank you for your permission, Mr Weasley-"

"Hey!" George interrupted her again, "I didn't say anything!"

"Not you, Mr Weasley-"

"But I thought you were talking to me?" Fred cut her off yet again, utterly bemused.

"Be quiet, both of you!"

The boys were quiet, leaving the Entrance Hall silent to all but a few stifled giggles from some of the other students in the group. When these had finished, McGonagall continued, "These Houses will be like your family…"

"I'm confused," Fred said under his breath to his brother. "Which one of us is supposed to be quiet again?"

"Good behaviour will earn you points," she went on, "while any rule-breaking will lose you points."

"Hey!" Fred protested, "Why is she looking at us?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lee replied sarcastically, "Maybe because you've interrupted her eight times during this speech already?"

"Yeah, that could be it," George conceded. "But there's no need to hold a grudge."

Finally Professor McGonagall got through her welcoming speech and led the pupils into the Great Hall, where they assembled before the population of Hogwarts. In front of them was a small, three-legged stall, perched on top of which was a ragged black hat.

Suddenly the hat ripped along the middle, and, to the amazement of the First Years watching it, began to sing.

_Under me I shall decide  
>Into which House you shall reside,<br>Put me on and test me out  
>Where you belong I shall shout out.<em>

_Will it be bold, brave Gryffindor?  
>Where stay the strong at heart,<br>Or maybe clever Ravenclaw,  
>Who takes the studious and smart.<em>

_Or then again there's Hufflepuff  
>For the kind and good and sweet,<br>Or the wily house of Slytherin,  
>Where cunning men you'll meet.<em>

_This house shall be your home,  
>Where loyal friends you'll keep<br>In the dangerous times to come  
>You'll need all that you may seek.<em>

_When darkness comes to call on you,  
>When strength is hard to find,<br>Look upon those around you  
>To keep you sound of mind.<em>

_For I am the famous Sorting Hat,  
>And I decide your fate,<br>Put me on and test my wits,  
>Before it is too late.<em>

The Hall exploded into applause, and the First Years appeared disappointed at the Hat's lack of movement from then on.

"That's a rubbish troll," Fred muttered, and was immediately shushed by the girls.

McGonagall spoke: "When I call your name, sit upon the stool and I shall place the hat upon your head. Abbot, Beatrice!"

A dark-haired girl emerged from the crowd slowly and made her way to the stool. She sat under the hat for over a minute before the ragged garment let out a cry of 'RAVENCLAW!' and, after leaving the hat on the stool for the next person, she skipped down to the table cheering for her.

"Cameron, Charles!"

The process went on in this manner for quite some time, and by the time Lee had been sorted into Gryffindor along with Angelina, the twins had begun to get bored, and begun to try to guess the other pupils houses.

"Spinnet, Alicia!"

"Ravenclaw, possibly Hufflepuff," George hazarded.

"I don't know, she looks like Gryffindor material to me... She got into a boat with us, didn't she?"

"True enough." In fact Alicia was placed into Gryffindor, proving Fred correct.

A nervous "Thompson, Marietta," was called up.

"Hufflepuff."

"Agreed."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The boys gave each others high-fives, earning them some odd looks from those around them.

Eventually, after "Vixen, Canus" had become Slytherin and "Warren, Elizabeth" had become Ravenclaw, it was their turn to leave the almost-empty line.

"Weasley, Fred!" Professor McGonagall called, urging him forward from the front of the almost-empty queue of students. The boy bounced across the floor, settling down on the three-legged stool and waving to two similar, taller ginger boys sitting at one of the tables on the left of the hall before the hat dropped over his eyes...

"Aaaah, another Weasley, I see?"

Fred Weasley didn't even jump at the voice that sounded in his head, merely replied, "Oh, hello. Who are you?"

"Weren't you listening in the song?" The hat seemed rather put out.

"No," he replied bluntly. "So, what do we do?"

"I have to figure out your house- you know, this is rather unorthodox..."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed, I've never had a hat talk to me before- a scarf, sure, and the occasional mirror back at home, but-"

"Will you please be quiet? I have to look into your head and it's hard if you keep thinking so loudly."

After a moment, the hat spoke again, "Hmm... interesting. Bright... bright enough, at least. And cheerful. But so mischievous. Cunning, even... I know where you'd fit in... How about going to Slytherin?"

"But I don't like snakes! They creep me out!"

"Honestly? You're daring to argue with the Sorting Hat? Then perhaps you belong somewhere else, Mr Weasley- GRYFFINDOR!"

Fred blinked as the light returned, before jumping up and putting the hat back on the stool. He raised one arm in a salute, rushing to join his brothers.

Behind him, the tall, female professor called out, "Weasley, George!" and his identical brother made his way to the stool.

The hat dropped onto Georges head, and the first words he heard were, "Haven't we been through this before?"

"Nope," George thought back happily, grinning beneath the hat. Even the esteemed Sorting Hat couldn't tell the difference between he and his brother.

"Well, I can't tell the difference, so there's no doubt you belong together in order to cause as much trouble as possible!"

"Exactly what I thought. So, Gryffindor? With the rest of my brothers?"

"Indeed it is: GRYFFINDOR!"

As George followed his brothers footsteps across the floor with a grin, leaving only "Zach, Opal" to be sorted, a certain hook-nosed Potions Professor felt something.

It felt like dread, and knowing the Weasley twins, it was a pretty good estimation of what to expect from the next few years.

After holding a Who-Can-Eat-The-Most-Soup-With-A-Fork-Before-Getting-Bored-And-Throwing-The-Soup-Over-Lee's-Head competition, which kept the brothers occupied for a short period of time, staging a miniature food-fight with their two older brothers on one side and the twins on another and generally pissing off the occupants of Gryffindor table, the boys fell at last. This was mainly due to the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, throwing a loaf of bread at each of them in order to shut them up.

"Well, now that our newest Weasley's are listening-" the Hall chuckled, "-I have only a few things left to say:

"Firstly, our Caretaker Asmodeus is, sadly, leaving us to spend his retirement somewhere else, and I quote, 'without bothersome little brats leaving tea in my socks and sugar cubes in my shoes'…"

"That was me," Charlie whispered proudly, winking at the twins.

"…So the position shall be taken on by young Mr Filch here."

A man who was anything but young stood up (with some difficulty and only with the help of Professor Snape, who looked downright disgusted to be touching him) and sneered at the children.

"Secondly, auditions for the choir will take place next Saturday at ten o'clock in here. Please see Professor Flitwick for additional details." He waved at a tiny Professor sitting at the end of the table.

"And finally, though I know it may be exciting to be here, in a new place, please refrain from exploring the Halls tonight. Also I would like to add that after last year's incident with a rogue Centaur the Forest is now Forbidden…"

"That was me, too," Charlie whispered again.

"…and so is Professor Snape's classroom, after last year's Babbling Brew accident."

"Let me guess, Charlie," George murmured, "That was you?"

"No, actually," Charlie disagreed in a low voice, "That was Percy."

George raised his eyebrows, and Charlie finished the sentence, "Alright it was me, but I blamed it on Percy."

"And now you may all depart to bed, as I am sure you are tired after today's excitement… Lessons begin tomorrow morning, don't be late!"

As the Hall emptied gradually Professor Dumbledore smiled, watching two boys squabble over the winner of a Who-Can-Eat-The-Most-Soup-With-A-Fork-Before-Getting-Bored-And-Throwing-The-Soup-Over-Lee's-Head competition and another boy merely stood, dripping slightly, and shaking his head in exasperation.

This certainly looked to be an eventful year, he predicted.

He was right.


	4. Chapter 3

DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON

CHAPTER THREE

THE EXACT IMPORTANCE OF WAFFLES AMONGST THE UNIVERSE, BECAUSE WAFFLES ARE REALLY YUMMY

OR

POLTERGEISTS, POTIONS AND PERMANENT RECORDS

"Lee."

Prod.

"Lee."

Prod.

"Lee."

Prod.

"Lee."

Prod.

"Lee, get up, we're-" Fred began, slapping the dark-skinned boy lightly over the eyes.

"I don't care," Lee muttered, growling and putting his pillow over his ears. "It's half past eleven. How are you two still awake?"

"Fine, then. Don't come exploring with us," George retorted, sticking his tongue out, despite Lee being unable to see him.

"Thank you…"

"Will you lot shut up?" A voice from the other side of the dormitory yelled tiredly.

"Alright, we're going, we're going!" George shouted back, affronted, before pulling his brother out of the room while grumbling about stupid dorm-mates who didn't understand the importance of exploring the place to be your home for the next seven years.

"To be fair," Fred reasoned, as they tried (and failed) to be quiet as they made their way down the stairs, "It is just before midnight and most of them got up early to pack."

"We didn't."

"No, because every time Percy came in to wake us up you shot sparks at him and he gave up by the sixth time, when you almost incinerated his eyebrows."

"Oh, yeah… that sounds familiar."

By this time the boys had reached the bottom of the stairs. True to form, Fred tripped on the final stair, landing sprawled at the feet of his brother and drawing the attention of everyone left in the Common Room.

"Well, since everyone is looking at us now…" George muttered, before raising his voice, "Good Evening Gryffindor!"

The occupants of the Common Room looked back at him blankly. From an armchair beside the fire Charlie stood up.

"You're planning on going exploring, aren't you?"

"…No…"

"Mum wants you to promise me not to wander off, not to blow anything up, and not to get caught doing something stupid within your first week."

"You know us, Charlie," Fred said, standing up.

"When would we do anything like that?" George went on, pushing his brother over again.

"Besides, when was the last time we blew anything up? It's been months since we blew anything up."

"You exploded Percy's pillow as soon as he got back from school."

"It's been weeks since we blew anything up."

"You detonated our breakfast last Monday. There was egg everywhere."

"It's been days since we blew anything up."

"You and Ginny exploded my suitcase last night when I was trying to pack."

"It's been hours since we blew anything up."

"You and Lee had a fight at dinner that ended in you prodding his chocolate mousse with your wand until it blew up in his face."

"It's been minutes since we-"

Something boomed from somewhere around the school. "Let me guess," Charlie said, "It's been seconds since you blew anything up?"

"Oh, come on, Charlie, that wasn't us, that was probably one of Snape's potions." George complained.

"Probably," Fred emphasised lop-sidedly, pulling George down on to the floor beside him by the ankle.

Charlie sighed as his brothers began to wrestle, and gave up. "Just don't get into trouble, alright?"

There came no responses.

This was mostly due to the fact that they were both rolling around on the floor trying to beat the other in a wrestling match.

"Good," he said, deciding to take that as a 'Yes, Charlie, of course, Charlie, we wouldn't want to get into trouble, Charlie' rather than an 'I've stopped caring about what you're saying'.

Unfortunately, he realised despondently as the boys somehow managed to roll out of the portrait hole, it was more likely to be the latter of the two.

George stood up, leaving his brother giggling on the floor. "This way, Fred," he announced, starting off down the corridor. Fred followed him, still grinning.

"Why can't I choose where we go?" Fred complained after the two begun trudging down the third set of stairs.

"Well, mostly because you were busy rolling around on the floor when we were deciding where to go."

"When you decided, you mean-"

"Oh, stop complaining. Hey, can you hear something?"

"No, that's you- wait. Yeah, I can hear something- OH! HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN; WHAT IS THAT?"

"That," George called back amusedly as he jumped backwards into an alcove to escape firing range, "is Peeves. Don't you remember Percy complaining about him last year?"

"WHAT ARE YOU- GREAT GODRIC- GET IT OFF ME!"

Peeves was, as you may have realised, not a good thing. In fact, Peeves was a poltergeist- a ghost, of sorts.

George was enjoying himself. His brother was being attacked by various sticky, odorous substances, he was pretty comfy here in this alcove and, most importantly, he had just discovered a packet of Expelliarmus Sweets in his pocket.

"GEORGE! HELP ME!" Fred cried from under a barrage of ink balloons.

"No!" George shouted back, "This is for my pancakes last week! I was looking forward to those!"

"I didn't mean to blow them up! I was aiming for Ron's omelette!"

Suddenly, everything stopped. George stopped laughing, Peeves stopped throwing things and Fred subsequently stopped screaming about his brother's breakfasts. A presence had arrived in the corridor, bringing with it a swirling, curling mist and a heavy sense of desolation-

Well, alright, not quite. But it was still pretty scary, as both of the twins would later testify.

Striding (hobbling) down the corridor furiously was a terrifying (mildly creepy) figure, followed by a superior-looking, fear-inciting tiger (a smug-looking, scruffy, little cat): It was Filch, the caretaker.

"Students out of bed! Students out of bed!" Filch bellowed as he came up to the boys and pulled them towards him by the ear. They yelped in pain. Bringing their faces close to his, he lowered his voice to a throaty, malevolent tone and said, "Oh, you two are in trouble… so much trouble. My office, now."

As they followed the creaky caretaker, George wondered if he'd have any chocolate there, because he'd forgotten his Expelliarmus Sweets.

"You two. Sit," the caretaker said, and the twins did so.

"These chairs are kind of uncomfortable, do you mind if I-" Fred began, until George got him in the ribs with an elbow.

"Quiet. I am disciplining you! In my day children were respectful to their elders… they didn't go wandering all over the place at every time of night…. In my day, you would have been strung up by your ankles for this, you know," Filch said, turning to a dusty cabinet at the back of the room.

"In your day," George muttered to his twin, "Dinosaurs probably roamed the earth, but you don't go on about that, do you?"

Fred looked at him blankly. "What are dinosaurs?"

"Don't you know anything?"

"I thought I told you to be quiet! Ah, here we are," Filch said, pulling out a pair of empty folders from the filing cabinet. "Do you know what these are, boys?"

"Are they some kind of book?" George suggested helpfully, circling his head questioningly.

"No, that's not-" Filch looked mildly confused, his eyes switching between the twins.

"Maybe they're presents! What have you got for us, Filch? What've you got?" Fred clapped his hands excitedly, reaching out for the folders.

"No!" Filch shouted, startling them into silence, "That was a rhetorical question!" The boys let out sighs of realisation. "These are your permanent records."

There was a pause. After a moment, George broke it, saying, "So, are you going to explain what you're talking about, or just leave us sitting here in silence...?"

"I was getting to that!" Filch snapped, "It was just a pause for dramatic emphasis! Not that either of you cretins would know what that meant, I suppose…" He trailed off, and then began again. "Anyway, your permanent records are a file of all of your misdeeds and bad behaviour-"

"So it's a bit like a diary?" Fred asked.

"No! It's nothing like a diary!"

"Ah, more of a journal then," George nodded knowledgeably.

Beside him Fred murmured into his ear happily, "He looks like he's going to explode…"

"It's not a diary or a journal! It's a record!"

"Yes, Mr Filch," Fred nodded consolingly, patting his hand comfortingly, "We all know it's a record."

"For Merlin's sake! Fine, I'll fill this in myself if you Nargle-bogeys just go back to bed and leave me alone."

"What are you talking about, Mr Filch?" George said innocently, cocking his head to the left.

"What's a Nargle?" Fred said curiously, cocking his head to the right.

"I've had enough of you two. It's only my first day on the job, and already you've single-handedly destroyed the seventh floor Arithmancy corridor-"

"Hey, Peeves had a hand in that too-" Fred protested.

"GET OUT!"

The boys did so, scampering up to their dormitory before Filch could recall that he was supposed to be punishing them.

"Good Morning!"

Lee's cheery greeting was welcomed with double grunts.

"Get up, Fred, George."

Fred didn't say anything, merely groaning again and throwing a pillow in Lee's general direction. It missed by several inches.

"Go away, Lee, we're trying to sleep," George elaborated.

"It's half past seven."

"Exactly," George rolled over and promptly fell asleep again. Lee rolled his eyes and left the room for breakfast, pulling his bag over his shoulder on the way out from his bed beside the door.

About an hour later, the twins were possibly regretting not getting up earlier.

By which I mean that they were running to their first Potions lesson.

"Why do… our Potions lessons… have to be so… far away?" George panted as they flew down a flight of stairs.

"Why didn't we… listen to Lee?" Fred countered, tripping over a step and rolling to the bottom. "Ouch," he muttered, standing up again and following as his brother raced past him.

"Why are there… no easier ways… to classes?"

"Shut up and move quicker!" shouted Lee from a few strides behind them.

"Wait a moment… Lee?" George questioned, slowing a little to allow the others to catch up.

"I got lost."

"Ahhh," the boys nodded in understanding. Fred added, "If only… you'd come… exploring with us… last night-"

"-then you'd… know the way to… class already," George finished.

Arriving outside the Potions classroom, the boys took a moment to catch their breath.

"Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mr Jordan. I see you are late for my class."

"Actually, Professor," Lee corrected, "We are exactly on time for your class."

"Maybe you're just early to your class," Fred suggested helpfully.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, sneered at him (which really didn't change his face at all; he always looked pretty unimpressed with everything and everyone around him) down his hooked nose, and shoved them into the classroom in front of him. "Sit. Pay attention. And DON'T blow anything up. I've heard about you two," he glared at the Weasley Twins, "and something tells me I'm not going to like either of you."

Suffice to say, their first Potions lesson didn't go too well.

"For your first Potions lesson, you shall be making nothing."

"Awww," Fred muttered, disappointed, having been looking forward to ruining Snape's first impression of him by blowing something up in his face.

"Instead, you are all going to complete these basic Aptitude Tests."

"Yes!" George punched the air. Most of the class stared at him, utterly bemused. "Sorry, what?"

"Basic. Aptitude. Tests. Although, Mr Weasley, perhaps I will be able to predict your score from here?"

"I thought he said 'making a mess'," he whispered to Fred, who nodded sadly and sympathetically.

"Yes, I'd hoped for that too."

Lee was mouthing the words 'Basic Aptitude Test' and 'Making A Mess' repeatedly, attempting to figure out how the two phrases could be confused. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it was quite possible the twins hadn't been listening to anything from 'Making' onwards and had just assumed the most likely outcome of a combination of Potions and The Twins: a mess.

Some way through the test, when Fred tried to cheat off George and discovered that George was already cheating off him, Professor Snape wondered why he had become a teacher.

As he sat at his desk, watching the two boys trying to beat each other with rolled up Aptitude Tests, he decided he should have taken up a far safer profession such as working in Customer Service or as a Dragon Tamer.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of difficult lessons for Lee and cries of 'He cheated!' 'Get away from my Geraniums!' and 'DETENTION!' for the Twins.

In Transfiguration, as everyone else was attempting to turn their matches into needles, Fred and George set fire to Lee's dreadlocks.

In Herbology, Lee found himself tied to a Murtagh Plant, again by his dreadlocks.

In History of Magic Lee began to consider having his dreadlocks removed as the Weasleys tried several styles out on him- from Rita Skeeter to Dumbledore.

By the end of the day he had vowed revenge on them, and so snuck Salt into the treacle tart. The Twins, of course, blamed each other for this, and it was not until he was able to sink into bed that he escaped the yells of 'My treacle!' and 'My tart!'

Their second day at Hogwarts began with Fred's wonderful and apparently completely true (on his mother's life!) ("Hey! That's my mother too, you know," George cried) recounting of his dream.

"So then the dragon opened its mouth and started breathing fire at me! Of course, I pulled out my wand and blasted it backwards like _that_, and then the dragon started talking. It said 'Get up, Fred, or I'll eat all the waffles!' and then it turned into George and then I woke up and it _was _George!"

"Wow," George said, plucking a waffle from his twin's plate, "Scarily accurate, that was. Funny, I had that exact same dream; except the dragon was mum and she breathed syrup instead of fire."

"I wish mum really breathed syrup," Fred said sadly.

"Don't we all," Lee sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Pass the honey-" and then, realising that his brother was eating waffles that did not belong to his brother, he said, "Oh, just have them!" and threw one of them at George's face.

George ducked, and the sticky waffle landed at the feet of…

"Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mr Jordan."

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall!" the twins chorused.

"Hey, Prof Mc-Gee," Lee said, grinning. "Toast?" he offered.

"No, thank you, Jordan. And if you ever call me that again I will personally ensure that you fail every Transfiguration exam from now to Seventh Year."

"Sure thing, Prof- Professor."

"Mr Weasley-"

"Yes?" said George.

"No, not you, the other one."

"Yes?" said Fred, hoping it was nothing to do with waffles.

"As much as I love being greeted by waffles-"

"I do not know how that happened," Fred interrupted instantly, "In fact it must have spontaneously formed around your feet."

"Of course it did. Mr Weasley, if you do not clean this mess up by the time I return with your detention slips you shall be eating it from the floor."

"Hey, I didn't throw it!" George protested.

"Not you, the other one!"

"Oh."

"You are both to report to Mr Filch as soon as dinner is finished. He shall be waiting for you at the top of the Astronomy Tower."

"Do you reckon he's planning to push you off?" Lee questioned, picking up the waffle, since it was unlikely that anybody else would do so.

"Nah, Filch couldn't do that to us! We're his special detendees! He saves all the best detentions for us," Fred claimed, pouring ketchup over George's plate of waffles.

George shrugged and ate them anyway. "Is detendees a word?"

"Goodness, children these days," Professor McGonagall muttered as she stalked off.

George turned to Lee. "Professor Mc-Gee, I like it. You know Lee, you're like the brother I never had."

"You have five brothers, one of which is me," Fred informed him indignantly.

"Alright then. Lee, you're like the twin I never had."

"I'm right here!"

"I think I should start calling you Fred."

"Is this about the waffles? Because I can get you more waffles!"

"Yes, this is about the waffles! I love waffles! And you just, you _threw it, _you _threw the waffle!_"

"Wow," Lee said quietly, nonplussed. The Weasley Twins sure were a change from his own family, who liked to eat breakfast in absolute silence and none of whom really had a sense of humour. "Wow," he repeated.


	5. Chapter 4

DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON

CHAPTER FOUR

"WHO SAYS WE'RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE?"

* * *

><p>That day was much the same as the last. If anything, the Twins were more excitable than the previous day. The prospect of a detention with their very favourite person in the world was almost more than they could bear.<p>

Lee, however, did not find this very funny. Somehow, he seemed to be in trouble very often for simply sitting with the Twins. The rest of their year seemed to have decided that the Weasleys were simply too dangerous (albeit fun) to sit with. Perhaps this had something to do with the previous day's mutilation of Lee's dreadlocks, or perhaps it was because they had already managed to accrue more detentions than they had homework. Anyhow, the Weasley Twins had earned a reputation, and Lee found himself being dragged down with them.

He mentioned this during their second Herbology lesson, as Fred poked a Sentient Deadly Nightshade with his wand.

"Are you two sure that you want to get in trouble again?"

Fred and George exchanged glances.

"Who says we're going to get in trouble?" George asked, bemused, as the Sentient Deadly Nightshade wrapped a frond around Fred's wand and began to pull.

Fred gave the plant a slap. "Yeah, what gave you that impression?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lee said, eyeing the plant nervously. Was it his imagination, or was it beginning to turn more purple as he spoke? "Maybe it's the fact that you are purposely irritating a plant with the word 'Deadly' in its name?"

"Oh, Lee," George said comfortingly, as Fred began to play tug of war with the plant, "Don't you know anything? Nightshade is only deadly if you eat it."

Lee was about to say something else, but Professor Sprout had noticed the rather vigorous handling of her plant and was heading over. Hurriedly he began to count the leaves on his own Sentient Deadly Nightshade, which was suddenly proving rather difficult to handle. Absently he noticed that several other people in the class were beginning to have trouble with their plants too.

"Boys!" Professor Sprout cried, hurrying over much quickly, "Stop that at once! You're agitating the other plants. If you're not careful, we'll soon have a full scale riot on our hands!"

Fred removed his wand and looked around. His plant gave a vaguely threatening rustle. On the other side of the greenhouse, a timid Hufflepuff was staring wide-eyed at her plant, which was making rude faces out of its leaf formations.

Professor Sprout sighed. "Class, I'll sort this out, you go on back to the castle. For the next lesson I want a foot of parchment on the dangers of inciting a plant with a Hive Mind!"

The class groaned. On the way up to the castle, the three boys received several dirty looks from their class mates.

Lee himself couldn't help but take part in the glaring. Eventually the Twins noticed. "What?" Fred asked.

"What do you mean, 'What'?" Lee replied incredulously. "You just got us a foot of homework!"

"What, you think that was my fault?"

"YES!"

"Oh, come on Lee," George said, "She would've given us that anyway. This way we skip having to do a load of research in the Library and we can just use our practical experience."

Lee shook his head. Somehow, that actually made some sense. Although he still didn't like that they'd almost been stuck in the middle of a poisonous plant protest.

"Plus," Fred added, "Now we can go to lunch early."

George nodded. "Yeah, maybe now we have a chance of getting to the curly fries before Charlie does."

"Honestly, Lee," Fred said, shaking his head, as they walked through the door into the castle, "It's like you think we're stupid sometimes."

Lunch went without incident (or at least, without incident as far as the Twins were concerned). Soon the boys found themselves in a classroom they hadn't been it before- and not because they were lost.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," George read from the sign on the door. "What do you think that means?"

"Maybe it's about spells to stop it getting dark?" Fred suggested.

"Why would you need to stop it getting dark?"

"Maybe you're trying to go to the loo at night. I know I always stub my toe on the cupboard by the door in our room at home trying to get to the bathroom."

"Yes, I know too," George said absently, "You always swear and then manage to do it again."

"You know," Lee interrupted, getting the feeling that this could go on for a while, "Maybe we should go into the classroom to see what it's about?"

"I was just about to suggest that, Lee. Good idea. How very clever of me," Fred nodded solemnly, sweeping the door open with one hand. From the other side of the room, there was a quiet "ouch".

"Sorry!" Fred yelled, breezing in.

"That's quite alright," a man said from behind the door, "You weren't to know that I was behind there."

"You're right," Fred agreed, "I wasn't."

George and Lee followed in and closed the door behind them, revealing a tall, cheerful-looking man with a stack of books in one hand and with the other hand on his hip, which Fred had just hit with a door handle.

The three boys looked around the room. It was quite bare and clean, but the shelves were covered in books with exciting titles such as _Dark Wizard Hunters and How They Died _and _How To Capture Dragons: The Complete Guide. _One side of it, opposite the door, was curved, with a large window looking out onto the grounds on the wall. In front of the window was a desk. In front of this desk were several more rows of desks.

It was at this point that they noticed that most of the desks were occupied by their classmates.

"Oh," George said brightly, "Are we late?"

Lee groaned despondently, expecting another telling off.

"Yes," the man said, passing each of the boys a book, "But not to worry, we haven't got started yet. Take a seat. I'm Professor Proditor."

George grinned. A teacher who didn't care that they were late? Now this was a man he could get along with.

With a lot of noise, the boys sat down, pulling out quills and parchment from their bags, as the professor returned to the front of the class room.

"Hey Lee," Fred said loudly, still rooting through his bag. "Have you got a spare quill? I think I broke mine when I was having that quill fight with George."

"Yeah, Lee, me too," George said, pulling out numerous items, none of which were a quill.

"Not to worry, boys!" the professor called from the front of the class, "We're just going to be reading today, and trying out some basic magic. You won't need your quills."

"Good," said Fred, trying to stuff several half chewed jelly beans back into his bag, "because I don't think I have any parchment either."

The rest of the lesson went quite slowly, as it was just reading, until finally they were allowed to get their wands out and practice a few basic duelling jinxes. This caused some uproar, as the twins were partnered together, and neither of them was able to cast a spell without the other laughing at the stupid sounds made by their wand. In the end the boys abandoned magic and decided to duel the muggle way.

Lee looked on with his partner Alicia, who had successfully cast a tongue-tying jink on him. He shook his head sadly at her, and she gave him a look that said 'I'm not going to take pity on you, you just spelled my hair green'.

"Well, of course," Proditur tried to say over the yells of the wrestling Weasley, "If in a real duel you found yourself without your wand, there is always the option of physical violence, although I am hesitant to encourage it – boys! Stop that! MR WEASLEY! That vase is worth more than your-"

There was a loud crash, followed by several grunts of pain, and Professor Proditur eventually gave up, yelling, "DISMISSED!"

"I think that went quite well," Fred said on the way to Potions. Behind him the Gryffindor class stared at him incredulously.

"I disagree," George said morosely, "I didn't get to curse you at all. Not like Lee. Look, Alicia's hair is still green. Imagine if I'd done that to you. You'd look ridiculous."

Behind him, Alicia glared.

"You're right. Lee looked like he was having way more fun. Bloody Lee."

Lee gave a muffled objection, still unable to speak.

"What was that, Lee?" George looked at him confusedly. "I can't quite hear you."

Lee grumbled a bit louder.

"You'll have to speak up, Lee," Fred chipped in, "There's something wrong with my ears."

Alicia rolled her eyes and smacked Fred on the back of his head. "He's still got a silencing charm on him, you dolts!"

"What?" George exclaimed, "Some people have all the fun! By the way, green is a really good colour on you, Alicia."

George received another smack as they entered the Potions classroom, but at the look on Snape's face he declined to object. The classroom was half-filled with Slytherins already, and each one of them had a cauldron on the boil.

"Hurry up and sit down. Jordan, why are you all so late?" Snape snapped at the unfortunate boy, who had made the mistake of sitting at the desk closest to Snape.

"Mmmph-" Lee tried, and then gave up explaining in favour of pointing towards Fred and George, who were behind him desperately trying to work out how to light the fire under the cauldron.

"Who, us?" Fred cried innocently, whilst George called Lee a traitor under his breath.

"I should have known it would be the Weasleys," Snape sneered, making his face look even more unpleasant, "Two of you in one year, how unfortunate. Gryffindor will be losing twice as many House Points this year. Five points from everyone for being late."

There were a few indignant cries around the room, which were swiftly silenced by a glare from the greasy man. "It's almost as if you people want to be punished," he said. "Very well then. Five points more from everyone in Gryffindor."

This time nobody objected.

"Today you will be brewing a simple Babbling Beverage. I hope for your sakes that you all brew the potion correctly, as you shall be feeding the finished product to each other." Somehow they got the feeling that Professor Snape would actually be rather pleased if one of the students died.

"Of course," Snape went on, "I am somewhat doubtful that we will notice the effects of the potion on some students," his gaze rested on the Weasley Twins, "As this potion causes the drinker to spout uncontrollable nonsense for several hours after it has been drunk, and some of you seem to do that already."

Fred gave an insulted huff, but said nothing else. After all, what Snape said was quite true.

"Instructions are on the board," Snape intoned, tapping his wand on the blackboard, "Get on with it."

The classroom was suddenly full of motion. George continued poking the fire under the cauldron with his wand until it burst into flames, whilst Fred hurried off to the store cupboard. When he did not return after a minute, George followed him, to find his brother pocketing a number of exotic ingredients.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Stealing."

"Exactly. I bet half of this cupboard would pay for our sweet expenses for years."

"And you don't think Snape will notice?"

"Snape's probably had any number of students today. Any one of them could have taken stuff."

"Good point," George acknowledged, stuffing a handful of dried shrimp eyes into his cloak pocket, "But he might notice if we don't start actually making a potion?"

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grabbing a final handful of snake scales, "Fine."

Returning to their station, they found that they were now some way behind everyone else. To rectify this problem, George decided that making the fire hotter was the same as boiling for longer, and did so.

Unfortunately, as they discovered an hour later, it was not. Snape leaned over their potion with a nasty look in his eye. "Mr, Weasley-"

"What, me?" Fred asked, hoping Snape meant George.

"What, me?" George asked, hoping Snape meant Fred.

"Either of you," Snape barked, "Can you tell me what the difference is between your potion and Mr Davis' over here?"

"Er…" Fred hesitated, looking at his potion, then Davis', then back to his. "We don't have to drink ours but Davis does?"

"Not quite, Mr Weasley. What about you, Mr Weasley?" He turned to George.

"Er…" George shuddered. "Ours is actually way better than Davis', and everyone else's in the class, because it's a way brighter orange?"

"Wrong again, Mr Weasley. Maybe you'll understand when you've drunk some. Everyone, fill a vial, and present it to your partner."

The class did so, but the Twins stood stock still.

"You do it," Fred ordered.

"No way," George countered. "You do it."

"You."

"You."

"You."

"Lee?" They turned to look at their friend hopefully.

"Do not bring me into this."

"It's your fault," Fred accused. "You turned the cauldron up really high."

"It's your fault! You took ages in the store room!"

"How about," Snape suggested, picking up a ladle and pouring out two vials of potion, "You both drink it?"

Fred and George looked at each other.

"It's the only way…" George whispered, terrified.

"Together, or not at all!" Fred concluded, and they linked arms, each taking a vial.

"Bottoms up!" Snape announced, almost gleefully, and the Twins, along with half the class, swallowed the potion.

At that moment, something very interesting began to happen. As half the class began to burble happily, the Twins went through several colour changes- the skin turned from normal, pale and freckly, to red, then swiftly to purple, before settling on maroon for a moment, and finally returning to normal.

Identically, their mouths popped open. The entire class watched, silent, but for the fast, nervous chatter of those who had already ingested the potion.

Then a great clamour arose from the two boys, as they began to hiccup uncontrollably with the effort of saying so many words so quickly.

"Wow-hic-I feel-wow-MERLIN-wowow-hic-wowow-GEORGE-somuchtosay-solittle-hic-" Fred exclaimed, waving his hands around in great motions.

At the same time, words tumbled from George's open mouth. "HIC-this is-hic-FRED-amazing-I-so alive-hic-words-I can't-hic-"

Snape looked at the two boys, and then said, disappointedly, "Just as I had suspected. No change at all." He then looked over the rest of the class, half of which was chattering noisily, if a little slower, than the twins, and the other half of which were already looking annoyed. "Class dismissed."

"LEE!-hichic-come-dinner-hic-Agrippa-so hungry-I want-now-hic-LEE-"

"Please stop."

"I c-c-c-can't-hic-Snape-genius-hic-we should-Percy-dinner-potion-hic-"

"Please stop."

"IwishIfelt-hic-potion-babble-allthetime-hic-Lee-amazing-"

"Please stop."

But no matter how much Lee begged, he was powerless to the concentrated effects of the potion. Whilst his classmates were suffering from tales of dreams, nonsensical childhood stories, and downright lies, Lee had to listen to the relentless stream of consciousness permeated only by hiccups as they trailed down to the Great Hall for, as the Twins had mentioned repeatedly, Dinner.

"Lee-sit-hic-hic-dinner-down-come on-treacle tart-dinner-potatoes-"

"No way am I sitting with you two," their friend declined their invitation, and was immediately hit with a barrage of insults. "I'm sitting with the girls."

Lee left, and the Twins were left with only each other for company. The Great Hall was full of noise, but none louder or more irritating than them. At one point, Charlie sat down with them. However, as the chatter of his brother became more unbearable, he left, siting 'a splitting headache' as his excuse.

The boys found themselves unable to eat, and the area around them became littered with bits of chewed up food. A lump of mashed potato perched on Fred's left ear, whilst George found himself with meat juices dripping down his chin from his stew. As the meal went on they became more and more disenchanted with the situation, as their affliction prevented them from enjoying the wonderful food. Eventually, they gave up, and simply sat there burbling at each other.

Finally as the meal came to an end, Fred was struck with a sudden realisation, although he found it very difficult to communicate with his brother.

"George-words-talking-hungry-Filch-"

"What-Fred-nonsense-Filch?-cat?-don'tunderstand-help-Filch?"

"Filch-George-talking-talking-talking-FILCH-d-d-d-detention!"

George's face became a mask of comical horror, as he let out a never-ending string of expletives. How were they supposed to do detention with Filch, the grumpiest man in the world, when they simply couldn't stop talking?

"Ah-shit-Filch-shit-Fred-shit-talking-Snape-potion-crap-Filch-detention-"

They looked across to the staff table, mouths open still as they continued to talk. There sat Snape, watching them with a self-satisfied sneer evident on his face. Beside him sat Filch, looking even grumpier than usual.

They looked back at each other. To be honest, George thought, it would be a miracle if they could get through this detention without earning themselves another one.


End file.
